


Too Hot

by Dionaea



Category: Hotline Miami (Video Games)
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Sloppy Makeouts, Too Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2019-08-25 05:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16654708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dionaea/pseuds/Dionaea
Summary: Jacket and Biker engage in a game of Too Hot, in which two people kiss and the only contact allowed is their lips. Whoever touches the other first loses and owes the winner a favor...





	Too Hot

**Author's Note:**

> My half of an amazing trade with somebody on Tumblr!

“.. What’re you looking at me like that for?” Biker’s usual tone of voice, loud and sharp and spoken recklessly, dropped into a tone of mixed caution and suspicion. The expression Jacket had now wasn’t one he made often: half-lidded eyes with a certain look of fondness, a gentle warmth that seemed to convey all the caring that his words - or lack thereof - didn’t. Yet, his small smile had a tinge of mischief. Biker had learned to spot that little smile, and he had learned the sort of things it could mean, too.

It wasn’t the kind of smile he wanted to see after asking what would happen if Jacket were to win their game. He hadn’t expected the other man to think of anything that would prompt a smile like that one… It made him a little nervous. Yet, he couldn’t help his nervousness easing some as Jacket stepped closer, close enough to cast soft breaths down the side of his neck. It made Biker want to kiss him so badly. His face drew closer to Jacket’s almost out of reflex, but he hesitated, knowing he had better not get a head start on the game they were about to play, certainly not before Jacket decided what his reward for winning would be. Not that Biker intended to lose.

The blond’s gaze fell somewhat timidly then, and Biker’s gaze followed it, watching Jacket’s hand move between them and tap a couple times, just lightly with one finger, at the crotch of his own jeans. When his eyes lifted for Biker’s face, his hand did, too - tapping in the same manner at the other man’s lips.

A boyish smile crept tentatively across those lips in reply. “.. Yeahh, okay. You could just ask for one, y’know. Fuckin’ dork..” But maybe that wouldn’t carry the same satisfaction as _winning_ one would. Biker could understand that sentiment. With that, he gladly tilted his face just a fraction closer. Jacket did the same as their lips met. They started slowly, gently. Jacket had the advantage of seizing the more sensitive lower lip first, and he kissed there tenderly, at a _crawl_ of a pace that was already making Biker feel impatient. But he kept his cool. The warm, wet tip of his tongue dabbed at Jacket’s lip in answer, and that was all it took to prompt the man to open up, just enough that the muscle pushed the rest of the way in and skimmed the roof of Jacket’s mouth.

Jacket’s breathing deepened slightly. But he used the captive muscle to his advantage, rubbing his own tongue against its underside and then applying a long, slow, gentle suction. Steadily. Biker might have cussed if his mouth wasn’t so very _occupied._ He felt warmth pool quickly down into his groin, felt the familiar press of his cock starting against his jeans. His hands flexed restlessly at his sides. He wanted to pull Jacket closer, taste more of him, touch more of him, but that would be giving in far too quickly. He wasn’t going to go down without more of a fight. He opened his mouth wider to encourage Jacket’s to do the same, trying to ease some of that intoxicating suction on his tongue, but Jacket answered by stepping forward and sucking all the more hungrily. The push was enough to make Biker step back. No, no, no - if he hit the wall, he would be at the other man’s mercy. But he couldn’t help the short groan that crept from his throat. Every pull of Jacket’s mouth around his tongue sent a pang of heat down to his crotch. He was getting hard fast, and as his breathing picked up and he gave another soft moan, he thoughtlessly grabbed for Jacket’s waist to try to pull him closer.

Only to be shoved back against the wall, the kiss cut abruptly short. “Fuck,” Biker cussed softly, his eyes hazy and some spare spit dribbling down his lip. Whether the stuff was his or Jacket’s was impossible to tell. His smile having completely dropped by now, Jacket pressed closer, fingers digging into Biker’s teal hair and coiling there to start pushing his head downward. Biker complied, slumping down against the wall until he was on his knees, then leaning forward to feverishly start undoing the front of Jacket’s pants, burying his face under the man’s shirt and littering sloppy kisses against his abdomen as he went, only pausing to mumble against warm skin, “Hold still, jackass.”


End file.
